If you ask me, fall is the season of seasons, from a produce point of view. It’s an amazing culmination of dope root vegetables and various members of the cabbage family. Combining them into something delicious is a welcome invitation.

I’ve recently been super in love with Fresh Direct’s CSA boxes from the Lancaster farm fresh cooperative. All the wonderful, fresh, surprising goodness of a CSA program, minus the season-long commitment and annoying pick up locations. Last week’s $30 box netted us the following: A huge head of green romaine lettuce, dinosaur kale, baby hakurei turnips, beets, leeks, spinach, and these amazing blue radishes:

In reality they’re more purple, with a totally rad and artsy cross section. I was worried about how these huge radishes would taste, but they turned out to be mellow, crunchy, and delicious. Fancy food asshole protocols demand that they be eaten with some cultured butter and sea salt, which we happily took part in while cooking this rando (figurative) mash up of a stew.

These fall veggies were begging to be put together in some sort of omnivorous construct. What better than a stew?

I’m sure we all have certain memories and associations when we think of that venerable preparation. Mine’s probably not all that different from yours in some way or another. I have myriad childhood memories of my mother making stews- slinging meat, potatoes, onions, and (one of her tricks) romaine lettuce into that gigantic, resplendent, orange enameled behemoth of a Le Creuset she used to use. No matter the meat and veggie combination, they were always delicious. We always had seconds, and looking back on her making those for us brings a smile to my face. And so here I am, trying to flatter through imitation.

A randomly orchestrated cornucopia of fall veggies straight from the farm? Check.

This specific stew in question was comprised of the following:

2 lbs ground beef

1 large leek, chopped

2 medium onions, chopped

1 cup baby hakurei turnips, washed, not peeled, halved

1 28 oz. can of crushed san marzano tomatoes

1 large blue radish, 1/2 in cubes

1 bunch of dinosaur kale, stems removed, loosely chopped

bay leaf

1/2 cup red wine

Allspice, coriander, cumin, salt, and pepper to taste

Now that you’ve got the ingredients, you should know the drill. Saute the leek, onions, and ground beef with your favorite cooking fat, adding salt and pepper as you go. Toss the radishes and turnips in once the meat starts to cook through, and add the tomatoes. along with the red wine and bay leaf. Let that simmer for about 5 minutes and then add the kale and spices. Simmer for another 5-10 minutes, letting all the flavors come together. That’s about it.

I’m currently in the midst of a ketogenic/low carb diet, so the turnips and radishes made for super-awesome potato substitutes. Not to mention the awesome color the radishes imparted on the stew itself. I served this in a bowl with a dollop of Labne, which is essentially greek yogurt for badass motherf*ckers.

We got 3 solid meals out of this batch, and I’m actually getting sad that it’s all gone. Let’s see what next week’s CSA brings.

I guess you could say I’m a gadget fiend. I love how innovation and utility can come together to offer solutions to whatever difficulties we encounter at various points in our lives. Sometimes they’re frivolous and sometimes they’re life saving, but they’re always cool to the nerd with a MacGyver-like delusions of grandeur.

So you could imagine my excitement when this combo package of gadget-y goodness arrived in the mail. Packed in one diminutive box was the CRKT Guppie and Eat’N Tool. A funky, anthropomorphized multi tool and a minimalist backpacker’s barebones utility-tensil (I just made that word up on the fly, I’m really proud of myself). Let’s take a closer look at each:

The Guppie may be one of the weirdest incarnations of a multi-tool that I’ve seen. That being said, It’s thoughtfully designed and kind of lovable in its own way. The tool is comprised of two pieces: The main component features a crescent wrench, carabiner, bottle opener, knife, belt clip, and magnetic hex hole that accepts standard screwdriver bits. The second component attaches to the main component with a magnet and acts as both a holder for 4 screwdriver bits and a small yet bright LED light. What you end up with is a really versatile tool that is packed with a variety of really sensible functions that are actually useable.

In the past few weeks, I’ve actually been carrying in my backpack every day. The Guppie has a combination of functions that make me want to have it nearby at all times, especially when on my motorcycle. Is it the best product for dedicated wilderness/backpacking? Maybe not, but it’s a great all-arounder, and would be really useful in car camping situations. I also want to mention that the Guppie’s knife blade exhibits the quality and sharpness that I’ve come to expect from CRKT’s. It’s sharp, straight, useful, and easily sharpenable!

The Eat’N Tool is another really cool example of multifunction design. It’s sleek, thin, and ultra-light. This single, solid piece of aluminum features a Spork, bottle opener, three wrenches, and a screwdriver. You could probably also open cans with it as well. Not bad.

So how does it fare as an actual eating utensil? The design itself gives up a few concessions as far as ergonomics and usability go in the eating department: the forky bit of the spork is adequate but not great at catching food, and the spoon part is a bit shallow- I probably won’t be sipping soup with it anytime soon. However, It’s still something I would bring along on a camping trip as you never know when you might need an extra utensil. Again, it’s so light that it’s not a big deal to bring along, and the added functionality it brings as a tool is always welcome. I could also see this being lusted after by the ultra-light backpacking crowd.

So there you have it! I love that I got to test these two dudes out, and I’ll definitely be keeping the Guppie with me most of the time. For the record, this gadget combo would make an excellent gift/stocking stuffer come holiday time.

Thanks again to CRKT and Backcountry.com for having me review these items!

]]>http://www.ridelighteatheavy.com/2014/09/gear-review-crkt-guppie-eatn-tool/feed/0Cortados + Motoshttp://www.ridelighteatheavy.com/2014/09/cortados-and-motos/
http://www.ridelighteatheavy.com/2014/09/cortados-and-motos/#commentsWed, 03 Sep 2014 22:50:19 +0000http://www.ridelighteatheavy.com/?p=698This summer’s mild weather has (so far) made for perfect urban moto riding weather. While I haven’t gotten out on my bike as much as I would have liked, a certain even in Greenpoint prompted me to hop on my moto, rip down the FDR, and head across the Billyburg bridge. I hadn’t been to the NYC Vintage motorcycle show in two years, and was excited to check it out once again. This year the event was appropriately titled “Muffler burn,” and was accompanied by this rad poster:

I made a quick pit stop for a long overdue catch up with an old friend over a few cortados. The Blue Bottle in Greenpoint was on the way, so we met there. It’s a bit of a tight space that tends to get crowded, but the Cortados are pretty solid. Side note: In a fit of coffee nerd one-upness, these guys don’t call cortados cortados- they call them “Gibraltars.” Hard eyeroll.

Afterwards I headed a few blocks north and parked my nude Ducati next to myriad choppers and vintage rides. I strolled about, snapping shots of my favorite bikes, catching up with friends who happened to have the same idea. It was a pretty mellow affair, save for the soundtrack of throaty engines and a rockabilly band intertwined and accompanying one another.

Motorcycles are a stunning melange of form and function- drawing from aesthetic sensibilities and engineering approaches that were available at the time of their manufacturing. It’s pretty excellent to see people come together to celebrate these beautiful machines with a minimum of attitude and insularity. You don’t have to own a moto to appreciate them (although it helps), and snobbery really isn’t the name of the game.

My favorite bike of the bunch? That would have to be this super fly ’73 Triumph Bonneville. The color on that tank just makes the whole bike pop. You’ll be happy to know that it’s for sale. Jump on it if you’re looking for a sweet vintage urban steed.

New Orleans holds a special place in my heart. After spending four years here slamming out a degree that I now have little use for, I’m thankful for the experiences I’ve had in NOLA.

The food/restaurant culture (especially as of late) is a fierce contender on the national level (and will be worth of future posts from yours truly). In the meantime, check out the newly re-launched Edible NOLA to get a wonderfully curated lowdown on what’s going on in the big easy.

This post isn’t about food, though, it’s about coffee. My time in New Orleans preceded my metamorphosis into insufferable coffee snob. Coming back here through a more caffeinated, aero-pressed lens sheds new light on this unique and wonderful city. Unfortunately, I have to admit that I’ve been largely disappointed by the coffee scene in New Orleans. PJ’s, CC’s, and Rue de la Course rule the local roost of coffee chains, and they’re ultimately disappointing. These coffee shops are vestiges of 90’s-era shops that didn’t give a damn about the provenance of the coffee or how it was made. The rise of the specialty coffee accentuates that fact more than ever.

I had almost lost all hope in finding decent coffee in this city rife with personality and culture. Fortunately, I just found a few promising spots, but would like to focus on my current favorite of the lot: HiVolt Coffee.

Sporting a full line of Counter Culture beans, a great aesthetic sensibility, and a creative, wide-ranging light menu, it’s an oasis of great coffee on Magazine street.

As for the cortado? aside from being photogenic, it’s tasty. Counter Culture’s Rustico espresso blends is dutifully constructed into a nutty, smooth cortado with just a hint of tanginess. Pair it with one of their dense, surprisingly delicious Mexican chocolate donuts (that I later learned were vegan and gluten free) and you’ve got a nice pairing. I’m a fan.

I think it’s important to have a go-to coffee shop in cities you tend to visit often. Whenever you need some time to yourself and your thoughts, just sit back, order a cortado, tip the barista, and chill while some great shop tunes play.

If you’ve met or spoken to me in the last two years you quickly learn a few things about me. Aside from the glaringly obvious (short, bald, the presence of bacon in my mouth), one thing that ends up sticking out is my enthusiastic obsession with Iceland. This is usually met with one of two reactions: Those who have been to Iceland get just as excited as me and we furiously back-and-forth stories and lists of the amazing things, places, and people we saw from our time spent there. Those who haven’t yet been there normally cock their heads and respond with “Why Iceland?” Thinking it some barren, freezing wasteland with nothing to do or see.

I’ve had the pleasure of visiting this amazing country 4 times in the last two years: 3 of them while on the way to Europe, using Icelandair’s amazing stopover deal, and once solely to visit Iceland itself. I’ve been to Iceland twice in the summer and twice in the winter. Two of those times were short stints in Reykjavik while the other two were week-long adventures into the north and the west, respectively. I can say with some confidence that I’ve seen a wide swath of what Iceland has to offer, and it leaves me amazed, content, and in a state of wonder.

And yet, I have yet to really write about my experiences on this blog. Sure, my Instagram is rife with photographic evidence of the wonders that are to be found , but it’s taken me this long to really sit down and use words to answer the question:

Why Iceland?

The answer I’m going to give is very much in the context of who I am and where I’m from, but I hope it resonates with others nonetheless.

As a born-and-bred resident of New York City, Iceland is particularly appealing: in fact, I think of it as the antithesis to NYC. In population density alone, the difference borders on ridiculous. NYC’s average population density is approximately 26,400 people per square mile. Iceland’s? 7.5 people per square mile. Perhaps one of Iceland’s best qualities is that it’s the perfect environment for an american to experience solitude without loneliness. The combination of amazing things to see, an English-speaking population, and a nigh-absence of crime makes it ideal for a person’s first solo venture into a foreign country.

In a more general sense, I think of Iceland as a place of incredible contrast; of beautiful and not-at-all cliche juxtaposition. Famously called the land of “Fire and Ice,” It’s also the land of moss and rock, rainbows and seaside cliffs, blue skies and northern lights, calm scenery and volatile weather. It’s an incredibly safe society thriving alongside a (sometimes) dangerous natural environment.

It’s a place I’ve grown to love deeply, in many ways. It’s my sanctuary; only a five hour flight away from subway delays, sirens, buskers, crowds, work, and stress.

I’ve made some incredible friends along the way as well. Icelanders, seemingly stoic when you first meet them, belie an intense sentimentality for their country, their family, their friends, and their work. I know that many of my Icelandic friends will be friends for life.

Adding further to the contrast: The art, culture, food and music of this isolated and raw land can be one of amazing sophistication. Nordic sensibilities shine here: it’s a place that welcomes good design, experimental music, and adventurous foodies.

While we’re on the subject of food: Iceland’s food culture is a curious mix of myriad foreign influences as well as an immutable core of ingredients and preparations that connects it to the land and the things that come from it. Puffin, Minke Whale, Horse and Sheep are prepared alongside the bounty that comes from the sea, making for amazing surf n’ turf combinations that you won’t find anywhere else. Budding microbreweries are producing amazing beers as well, and the coffee scene in Iceland gives NYC a run for its money, featuring a characteristically lighter roast that nordic roasters are known for.

Over the next few weeks I’ll be writing about and sharing some of my more memorable experiences from Iceland, but I felt the need to set the tone with this post first. I hope you find it to be a decent answer to the original question.

I tend to be skeptical of anything that’s over-hyped. I’m even more averse to waiting on line for the privilege of buying a product or service. With that being said, I can tell you, without a doubt: The cronut lives up to the hype.

Simply put, it’s one of the best pastries I’ve had the pleasure of shoving in my face-hole. Eating one is an oral foray across layer upon later of flaky-yet-tender deliciousness. A plain cronut would be wonderful on its own, but the pastry renaissance man that is Dominique Ansel gives this carbohydrate Bugatti a monthly roundhouse kick to the face with inventive flavors that prevent the cronut craze from getting old.

Just to clarify- I still don’t wait on line for them. My friends and I do our damndest to pre-order them from the website, which happens every Monday at 11AM. To say that the cronuts sell out quickly would be an understatement. They sell out faster than Aerosmith shows did in the 90’s. Monday mornings involve multiple browsers being open on multiple devices, alot of refreshing, and even more cussing out loud. My friend Adam, a talented mobile game developer, went all lL3t H4XX0R on us and set up a proxy server that was physically next to their hosting servers. Thanks to him, We acquired half a dozen cronuts on two occasions.

Round one was a fairly classy affair. We trekked to Adam’s Jersey City enclave and pre-gamed our dinner with cronuts and sparkling wine. The flavor: Raspberry and Lychee.

The lychee ganache was a beguiling compliment to the raspberry compote, hiding between crispy/flaky/tender layers of dough. The sparkling wine pairing took it to the next level. Good times, and a great pre-game for dinner.

Round 2 occurred a few weeks later, at my place. The lady and I made the pickup at the bakery, and ended up eating a fat kid’s amount of pastries while we were there picking up the cronuts. Upon getting home with the goods, we gazed upon the new flavor: Milk and honey with Lavender:

This cronut was not as flamboyant as the previous round of cronuts, but it was wonderful nonetheless. The honey and cream were gently accompanied by lavender, which added an extra dimension to the flavor profile of the pastry.

We encountered a quandry upon getting together to eat the cronuts: half of our friends hadn’t shown up, which means we had extra cronuts with nowhere to go! It was pretty much the living epitome of “First world problems.” We were obviously going to eat them, but I was looking to kick things up a notch. Cue the bacon:

Yup, that happened. Meet the cronut bacon sammy. The addition of the porcine pleasure strips vaults the baked good firmly into salty/sweet territory. It’s a thing of simulatenous beauty and blasphemy. I highly recommend you try it out if you’re into that sort of thing. I can assure you, it’s worth waiting on line for.

Pâté, as a food, may be the best manifestation of my favorite things: Pork, booze, dairy, and offal come together to form a meatlog that is rife with endless variations.

I had been threatening to make my own for some time, and decided to break in my new kitchen setup by documenting my first Pâté de campagne. Equipped with an open kitchen, counter space, and a dope new camera lens to try out, I was ready to give it (and GIF making) a shot.

I decided to play it relatively safe with my first go at pâté making and used this great Bon Appétit recipe as a starting point. Most people tend to assume that pâté contains a ton of liver, but it’s not necessarily the case. This specific recipe is a symphony of 3 different kinds of pork. I went ahead and did what any self-respecting carnivore would do and made a B-line for Schaller & Weber to pick up the choice ingredients: Freshly ground pork, a metric ton of bacon, and smoked ham.

I followed the recipe pretty closely, save for using smoked ham and also substituting out half of the cognac with a bit of Icelandic flava': Brennivín. I figured that the caraway seed flavor profile would add some additional personality to the meaty adventure log. I was right.

While it appears to be an intimidating dish to prepare, pâté is easy to make, fun to make, and begs for creativity. Slam the ingredients together, arrange them in a terrine, slap it in the oven for 2+ hours, and refrigerate overnight with weights on top. Boom. Done.

The final product looks great, and tastes even better when accompanied with real dijon mustard, cornichons, and placed atop a fresh baguette.

Next time I’ll be jumping on the offal train and adding whatever organ meats I can find to the mix. Should be a good time. Stay tuned.

Kismet led me to one of the best dining experiences I’ve had in recent memory.

It also led me to one of the best dishes I’ve had in years.

Back in August I embarked on a solo trip that had me traipsing across Iceland followed by a few days in Glasgow. I’d been to Iceland on quite a few occaisons due to Icelandair’s amazing stopover deal and subsequently fell in love with the country. More on that to come in future blog posts.

I decided on Glasgow as I had never been to Scotland and had been yearning to go. I can tell you that 3 days in Glasgow only whetted my appetite for the country and its culture, which is a stunning mix of history, character, and nature. I can’t wait to go back and spend a long week touring the rest of the country (and its distilleries).

A few weeks before my trip I happened to catch up with an old college friend via Gchat. As fate would happen,I learned that we would both not only be in Scotland at the same time, but it Glasgow. Even crazier, we ended up booking the same hotel! I can’t even begin to think of what the statistical probability of that is. For the two of us to find ourselves in a different part of the world, in the same hotel, at the same time. Needless to say I was a bit stupefied. We immediately decided that we should celebrate this one-in-a-billion occurrence by going to dinner at the best restaurant we could find in Glasgow.

That led us to Martin Wishart’s restaurant at Loch Lomond, about 30 minutes outside of the city. Michelin starred and located in a castle on a Scottish loch, it was the perfect setting for our intergalactic bacchanal.

Did we go all out? you bet your tartan mini-skirt we did. A symphonic 7-course sequence accompanied by a thoughtful (and at times daring) wine pairing.

We were dazzled with two rounds of amuse bouche before kicking off with the first (and my favorite) of all the courses: Sweetbreads.

Sweetbreads are enigmatic and oft maligned, but they are one of my favorite parts to ever come off of a cow. Americans have a tumultuous relationship with offal, finding organs to be “gross.” Sweetbreads especially, whose misleading name has probably fooled an ignorant vegetarian or two. To me, perfectly prepared sweetbreads are what dreams are made of. They’re not easy to prepare, requiring proper cleaning, but when done right are magical.

I actually have a secret short list of restaurants around the world that have astounded me with their sweetbread preparations. I’m happy to report that Martin Wishart’s Glaswegian establishment made the list after having had this rendition:

The sweetbread medallion, lightly dusted in buckwheat and roasted, featured a delicate flavor that was complimented by the juxtaposition of crispy and creamy textures. The Cep mushroom and Madeira veloute enveloped the crispy gland in creamy umami goodness. Fried wild rice littered the veloute and provided additional texture. So full of win.

Mackerel, the oily delight from the deep, was presented in ceviche form and accompanied by a curried melange of Loche Fyne crab.

An inventive take on seared scallops was next; the caramelized sear on the Ornkey Scallops was escorted by a gentle draping of lardo, black garlic, pancetta crumbs, and onion cream.

The ballotine of Foie gras was another epic preparation: it’s mouth-invading creaminess countered by the sweet/salty crunch of almond praline and apricot puree.

The final dish, Grouse, was out of this world. You know you’re in for something gamey when the white meat resembles red meat. It was an intense dish with a surplus of character and mouthful flavors.

The desserts were quite excellent but in reality served to cap off the evening much like a cigarette might after a night filled with vigorous lovemaking.

While each of these dishes was beautiful in their own right, the dinner, above all, was a wonderful example of how a dining experience goes beyond the food. The environment was perfect. The staff were attentive and invested in your meal; you felt as though they were coming along with you for a ride. Those are some of the things that take a meal and allow it to transcend past being a basic sustenance session.

This dinner was a fitting celebration of the black swan event. A rare, epic dinner between two friends who found themselves in the same place at the same time on the other side of the planet. I wouldn’t mind if it happened again.

Dude, I get it: the restaurant scene in NYC is expensive. Maybe it exasperates you and leaves you thinking that you’ve got to be a hedge fund D-bag to get away with eating at epic spots on the reg. Through my parents’ vocation as restaurateurs, I’ve been lucky enough in life to have been afforded the chance to eat at many of those spots. Still, I commiserate.

You might think restaurant week is the answer. I would disagree. It’s not the same experience. The ambiance changes with the clients that don’t normally frequent the restaurant. Staff can be bit weary to the types of crowds it brings in.

The chink in the armor of the spendy NYC restaurant scene is… lunch.

Is that too obvious? are you saying “no duh, CJ?” I don’t care if it’s obvious- it needs to be said. The fact is, many of the best restaurants in the city have bonkers lunch deals that make it cheaper to eat at a Michelin-starred restaurant than at Led Lobster.

I’ve decided to hit up these spots semi-systematically with some epicurian companions. We’ve been trying to hit them up on Fridays because it’s the summer and it’s a perfect way to end the week. Stay tuned for more posts from the Friday lunch club.

$25 for a 3 course lunch at a Michelin-starred restaurant helmed by a James beard-nominated chef and overall badass George Mendes.

The cuisine? New Portuguese with hints of molecular gastronomy.

The space? Beautiful, modern, small, and intimate. The best spot in the restaurant is one of the six bar seats overlooking the restaurant. There, you get to witness the masters at work, creating beautifully plated meals full of bold, dynamic flavors that characterize and slightly abstract Portuguese cuisine.

As a point of ridiculous comparison, $25 at Guy Fieri’s monstrosity of a times square restaurant would get you barely half of the listed entrees. And those that do are dubbed with such names as “Motley Que Ribs,” and “Unyawns Cajun Chicken Ciabatta.”

Shit, I just realized that using Guy Fieri in an argument is the foodie equivalent of Godwin’s Law. I don’t care- it still fits.

$25 at Aldea gets you something like this:

A rustic pork and duck terrine, accompanied by a muscat wine gelée and field greens.

A perfectly-executed and succulent free-range chicken breast with asparagus, English peas, chorizo, and fava beans.

There are a few other options for each course, and they’re all fantastic.

The rest of the dining experience is great. The service is on-point, the wine list is both accessible and interesting, and being able to see the kitchen in action makes for a dynamic meal that’s not depressing should you decide to eat alone.

It’s time to take back weekday lunch, and Aldea is a perfect way to kick it off.

Every few years, the cosmos align to form the perfect long summer weekend. This primarily happens when the 4th of July creeps perilously close to a weekend, resulting in the temporary loss of 5.6 million NYC residents. couple that with great weather, and you’ve got the black swan of NYC summer weekends. The dimished density transforms the city into a place that harbors good times and memorable moments.

Today was one of them. After recovering from some 4th of July antics, I hopped on my moto and ripped over to the Queens Kickshaw in Astoria. My good friend Mike met me, and we convened for conversation and to savor what you see in the photo above.

A perfectly executed cold brew is a magical thing. This is one of them. The Coffee Labs beans respond well to the frigid muddling, bursting with nutty notes and devoid of acidity. And then the moment hits- it’s one of the best parts of a coffee experience: Adding the dairy. As the milk (or half and half) invades the coffee, it rolls in like an ethereal San Franciso fog, haunting the coffee into a paler hue. the big ice cubes bob around and do their job as the two ingredients become one.

Those 5-10 seconds epitomize a perfect summer moment. If I were a cruder person, I would call it a summer money shot. (I am)